


I'll take care of you

by rymden



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Humiliation, M/M, Massage, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Fingering, gnc jon in a skirt!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 05:20:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26467843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymden/pseuds/rymden
Summary: “Rough day?” Martin questions, watching Jon shrug off his coat from his place on the couch. The line between his eyebrows and the anxious fidget in his fingers betray his pent up stress before Jon can voice it– it’s enough for Martin to mentally go through what he knows helps Jon relax, already getting up to put the kettle on.or, Jon comes home from a stressful day and needs some help de-stressing
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 9
Kudos: 188





	I'll take care of you

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally just a horny tweet that evolved into... this. i just think little archivist needs a break! although he's not an archivist in this fic. not really relevant but i made him a journalist because i think he'd be a very uh dedicated one
> 
> words used for jon's equipment are: cock, dick, clit, cunt.
> 
> also, martin pays attention to his chest and the words used are breast and chest
> 
> enjoy!

“Rough day?” Martin questions, watching Jon shrug off his coat from his place on the couch. The line between his eyebrows and the anxious fidget in his fingers betray his pent up stress before Jon can voice it– it’s enough for Martin to mentally go through what he knows helps Jon relax, already getting up to put the kettle on.

“Yeah, you can say that. Wasted the whole day chasing a lead that didn’t go anywhere which means I might have to go in earlier tomorrow to make up for lost time.” Jon sighs, following Martin into the kitchen, leaning on the doorway to idly observe him going through the motions of making tea.

“You’ve never missed a deadline, I’m sure Elias can oversee it this time.” Martin hums, frowning when he realises Jon is still wearing his shoes. “Take those off.”

“O-oh, I’m sorry. I was distracted.” Jon murmurs, eyes dropping to his worn oxfords, swallowing loudly. Martin pauses, considering the flustered state he’s in and adjusts his plans for the evening accordingly.

“It’s alright, Jon,” he starts, taking down two mugs from the cupboard above the sink, feeling himself slip into something more practised. “No harm done. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable on the couch? You can change if you want as well, can’t imagine those slacks are too comfortable.”

He doesn’t need to turn his head to know that Jon is blushing, the sharp inhale followed by Jon clearing his throat tells him enough.

“Of course. I’ll get ready and wait for you,” he clears his throat again, tone pitched a little higher than normal, before backing out of the kitchen and into the living room. Martin listens to his steps, smiling to himself as he does. 

Making tea doesn’t take very long, especially not with Martin’s practised hands, but he takes his time, wanting to make sure Jon has enough time to get ready. Wouldn’t want to rush him when the residue of a stressful day is still clinging to him.

He lingers, tapping his finger on the counter as he waits. When he’s sure Jon is settled, he exits the room and finds him sitting with his back straight, facing the telly that’s playing some nature documentary Martin had been watching to pass the time. He’s still wearing his shirt from today but the first two buttons are unbuttoned and he has rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, choosing to substitute his pressed slacks with a skirt instead– one of his favourites, a tiered maxi skirt in light blue that flows around his ankles when he walks. He looks striking in it.

Martin places one mug on the coffee table, the other in Jon’s hands, who smiles gratefully at him. When he moves his head, his hair shifts and reveals the collar he’d picked out a few weeks back. It’s a simple black collar with a ring at the front– perfect to tug, Martin had noted out loud when he’d shown it to him, which he made good on later that day– something he likes to wear around the flat as something to ground him.

“Someone’s dressed to impress,” he teases, relishing in the embarrassed noise Jon makes. “Now, drink some tea and settle down. Are you alright with me touching your shoulders and neck?”

Nodding, Jon shifts so that Martin can comfortably settle behind him, cradling his mug to his chest. Martin sweeps his hair to the side, exposing his neck and clasp of the collar. Leaning down, he presses a kiss just above it and feels Jon shiver under his lips. His hands come up to rest on Jon’s shoulders, thumbs rubbing firmly through the fabric of his shirt. The effect is immediate, his partner melting into the touch. 

“God, you’re so tense today.”

Jon sighs, “Yeah, like I said, my lead went nowhere and if I miss this deadline Elias won’t look kindly on it. I’ve always been on time before so by now he expects it from me.”

Martin moves his fingers in circular motions, applying the appropriate amount of pressure. “You’re sure he won’t cut you some slack? Surely he can’t be that unfair,”

“I’m afraid he is. This article is quite important too, so I don’t completely blame him.” Martin can hear the scowl in his voice, feel it in the slope of his shoulders, and decides to step up his game.

“None of that now, love,” he adds the pet name, knowing it always manages to rile Jon up, being called something nice. He’s once again proven right when Jon hangs his head, embarrassed but visibly pleased. “I’m sure it’ll all work out. For now you should focus on things not job-related.”

“Like you?” he asks teasingly. Martin rolls his eyes, repositioning his hands to rub the base of his neck, eliciting an appreciative noise.

“If you like. I know of several ways you get you to keep that focus on me if you need it,”

“Please,”

“Then c’mere,” he says, soft, carding his fingers through Jon’s hair while the other hand reaches around to pull him flush against his front. With Jon nearly in his lap, he readjusts himself so that he’s sitting with his back against the cushions, legs on either side of him. The tea is placed on the table next to the rapidly cooling mug of his own. “Can I touch your chest?”

“Yes,” Jon breathes, head falling back to rest on Martin’s shoulder. Martin presses a kiss to his forehead, just above his right eyebrow, and lets his hand slide under his shirt to smooth across planes of warm skin. He cups a breast, Jon’s breath hitching as he does, and massages it lightly. It’s small in his hand, barely a handful, but it feels perfect. It feels  _ right _ , like all of Jon does when he touches him. He thumbs over his nipple, pinching it. Jon lets out a shuddering moan, squirming a little in his seat.

Martin’s other hand stops petting his hair, pulling a protesting whine from the man in his arms that he shushes gently, and lets it slip beneath the waistband of his skirt instead to fondle his cunt through his underwear. A punched out noise leaves Jon as he arches into the touch, pushing his chest out and rolling his hips.

“Be a good boy and don’t move too much. Can you do that for me?” Martin asks, lips nearly touching his ear. “I wouldn’t want you to fall off.”

“Yes,  _ yes,  _ Martin. I’ll be good,” he whines, spreading his legs wider to allow for more access.

“Perfect.” Martin murmurs. He pinches his nipple again, earning a moan, before going back to massaging it. “You’re so lovely, Jon. My love,”

Pushing his underwear aside, Martin can feel how wet he is already and makes a comment on it that has Jon sputtering. Running his finger along his slit he bumps against Jon’s cock, peeking through his trimmed curls, stopping there to caress it light as a feather, relishing in the frustrated “ _ Martin,”  _ he gets for doing so.

Properly touching his clit now, he rubs it with his thumb, while he presses one finger inside. Jon jerks in his arms, moaning obscenely, clawing at the arm wrapped around him. Martin pumps his finger, feeling Jon clench around it.

“You take it so well, Jon, you’re doing so good.” he says and flicks his nipple. Jon moans again, the sensations of getting fucked by Martin’s fingers and having his cock and chest touched getting to him.

“I’m close,” he exhales, hips moving in little circles, grinding down on the finger in him. Martin adds another, fucking him quicker. The squelching sounds of his cunt echoes in the room.

“Come for me, love, show me what a slut you are,” he coos. The change in tone wrecks a full-body shudder through Jon, and with few more thrusts he comes. Panting, he turns boneless in Martin’s arms, mouthing at his throat.

“Fuck,” he says, making Martin laugh. “I needed that. I love you,”

“I love you too,” he smiles, peering down at the man in his arms. “Are you done or would you like another?”

“Mmmh, I’d like to come again, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Martin kisses the top of his head. “Although my back is starting to ache from the position. Here I’ll...” he trails off, putting his hands on Jon’s hips to lift him off of him and place him beside him, careful not to get slick on his clothes as he does. Predictably, Jon flushes darker at being moved so easily.

“Lie down for me?” Martin continues, settling a little further away to create space. Jon nods, making himself comfortable, one arm slung over the armrest, legs as open as they can be in the narrow space. Tucking his head into his shoulder, Jon peers at Martin through his eyelashes, lips parted. He looks so inviting Martin just _ has _ to lean over and kiss him.

The kiss is brief, lips pressing against lips, with Martin playfully running the tip of his tongue along Jon’s bottom lip, making him groan into his mouth. “Tease.”

“Just wait until I get my mouth on you,” he retorts, faint smirk playing on his lips. He loves when Jon gets a little cocky, it means that he’s relaxed enough to let himself go a bit– that, and he gets to put him in his place a little. Jon exhales harshly at his words, refraining from further commentary. “Good boy.”

He crawls back to sit between his legs, hands stroking his thighs, before hitching the skirt up so that it exposes his crotch. Jon dutifully lifts the fabric higher, fisting his hand in it, anticipation clear in their slight tremble. Martin begins removing his underwear, eyeing the wet patch as he rolls them down enough to not be in the way. Jon whines, lifting his hips to urge Martin on.

“Impatient are we?”

“ _ Martin,” _

Rolling his eyes, mostly for show, he takes his place between Jon’s thighs and wastes no time pressing down the eager tip of his cock with his tongue. The action elicits a moan from above him. He spreads his cunt and licks into it, wrapping his lips around Jon’s little dick. He inserts two fingers again, pleased with how easily he takes them.

Jon’s insides flutter when he rubs a particularly sweet spot inside him, “Just gagging for it, huh? You’re such a slut,” he says, pleased at the reaction he receives, the rush of slick dripping down his hand. 

He laps at the swollen clit, swirling his tongue around it, before finally taking it back into his mouth. Never let it be said that Martin Blackwood doesn’t give great head, if the quiver in his partner’s thighs are anything to go by. Adding a third finger, he switches focus to fuck him slow and deep, pleased with the sounds escaping from Jon.

It’s incredibly hot, watching his partner fall apart under his hands, and the heat between his own legs grows more prominent. Reminding himself to be patient, he looks up at Jon, mouth still busy and meets his eyes. The adoration burns bright in them and Martin almost has to avert his eyes at it.

“Martin,” Jon pants, as if it’s the only word he knows. In the moment, it might even be. It’s not uncommon for Jon to slip into a headspace where he’s unable to form proper sentences, but the achievement still simmers pleasantly in Martin's chest, happy to have diverted his thoughts from work.

He knows he’s getting close, can feel it in the way Jon clenches around his fingers. “Close?” Jon nods, a little frantic. “Doesn’t take you a lot to come on my fingers, does it?”

“No,” Jon breathes, head lolling back, exposing his throat. The collar decorates it beautifully, sleek back standing out against brown skin, and if Martin wasn’t preoccupied he’d be tracing the lines with his mouth with just a grace of teeth to rile Jon up.

The retort rests on the tip of his tongue, like other things, but he decides not to antagonise Jon further, instead focusing his efforts towards his climax. Jon’s breathing has turned harsh and he’s squirming under Martin, hips arched in an attempt to get him closer. Pulling back a little to lap at his clit, small kitten-like licks, while he fucks him thoroughly, Jon comes again with a groan.

A few more thrusts, letting him tip over into overstimulation, Martin sits up, slick coating his chin. Jon’s eyes have slipped closed, but at the movement he cracks one open.

“Fuck, Martin,” he simply says, echoing his earlier words. Martin snickers, fond, and wipes his face on his sleeve. “Ew.” Jon scrunches his nose.

“It’s your cum,” Martin quirks an eyebrow. “‘Sides, this’ll have to go in the wash anyway. Shame about the tea, though.” he adds, just now remembering the undoubtedly cold mugs of tea waiting on the table.

“We can always microwave it.”

This time it’s Martin who looks on in disapproval. “We are  _ not  _ microwaving tea, Jon. We’re civilised people. I can always put on the kettle again, it’s really not that difficult, I promise.”

Jon rolls his eyes. “Okay, sure. You do that while I go clean up, maybe change underwear as these are…” he trails off, both aware of their state.

“Sounds good. I’ll put on a movie.” he leans down to capture Jon’s lips in another kiss and smiles. “Glad you’re feeling less stressed.”

“Thanks to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on twitter @rymdens


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